The Tango
by Allychik6
Summary: Desire, passion, even anger. How can Tomoyo fight all these emotions while at the same time staring into Eriol's eyes?
1. The TangoTomoyo

**Hi, this is a one shot dedicated entirely to Tomoyo and Eriol. Enjoy, tell me if you like, and if I ought to write anything else like it!**

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**The Tango**

The music started and I glared at my partner. His annoyingly cute smile pinched something deep inside of me and my glare sharpened. As the violin struck up the first melancholy notes of the tango, Eriol wrapped his hand around my waist and his other reached out to capture mine. He didn't invade my dance space like so many other partners. But then his nearness didn't intoxicate me nearly as much as the smell of sandalwood. The lightness of the smell was greatly at odds with the husky notes of the minor key. And yet both somehow fueled that little place where all my emotions hid.

"You seem a bit confused my sweet Tomoyo, why?" Eriol leaned ever so slightly forward and wrecked further havoc on my senses.

"Don't call me that!" I tried to hiss, but the words came out in a more breathless tone.

He smiled and stared deeply into my eyes. That, along with the spinning caused a dizzy sensation to reel through my head. Why did he always have this effect on my senses? It made me so angry, this reaction!

"What do you want?" I asked, annoyed at myself, my body, my reaction, but mostly annoyed at him.

Eriol merely gazed farther into my eyes as if they were a gateway to somewhere he desperately wanted to go but was forbidden. For reasons beyond my control, I also felt myself falling into his blue eyes just the way I always imagined skydivers fell, without resistance or fear, without any emotion at all, just the wind and it flowing around and through everything, including me.

"Why are you here?"

"I came to see you, flower blossom of my heart."

We twirled, my hands around his neck, the harsh stilted sounds of the tango matching my feelings. How dare he take advantage of the situation for whatever twisted purpose he had? Our back and forth movements coordinated exactly with the flow of the music and somehow my anger just flowed away. The music resounded through our fast paced moves like a man on the hunt, with no mercy, relentless in its pursuit. This, coincidently enough, also described the way he was looking at me.

The passionate vibrant sounds of the strings combined with the dips, twists, and swoops caused sharp, dark heat to rush through my body. This sensation occurred around Eriol far more often than I cared to admit.

I stiffened my arms and straightened my back in an attempt to make the dance more professional and less personal. And I succeeded in making that appearance, but looks can be deceiving as my body so insistently informed me. Something new took over my body and if it weren't for my already stiff arms I would've fallen helpless onto Eriol.

All around us people stared, imagining the passion in our dance, but none of them could realize the degree to which the passion soared. Only I could see the desire in Eriol's eyes, yearning that threatened to burn me from the inside out and leave not even an empty shell behind.

His hands moved down to my hips as they swayed back and forth in time to the fast paced music. We were hand in hand, body to body, when the desire hit me. No longer did Eriol's excitement threaten the consume me, but my own did. Sharp and dark and desirous, the song was made for lovers and had that dangerous effect on all the dancers. As the moves became more and more passionate, I felt more giddy, more vibrant. I couldn't fight anymore, not the flaming emotions that Eriol could bring about so easily. Numbness refused to take over the raging ardor, I just couldn't fight it.

The look in my eyes must have changed because as the music wound to a close Eriol pulled back for the final dip. And our lips met in that breathless, heart wrenching way that only occurs when two souls touch for the first time.

"Touché."

**I know it's a one shot, but please review, then I know if you like it or not!**


	2. The TangoEriol

**Tango—Eriol**

I swirled the glass of champagne and stared at the pale gold color. Champagne was good, to good to get drunk on, which is want I really wanted. What I needed was a good beer, the kind that burns on the way down and leaves a bitter aftertaste. Sophisticated, respectable people drank champagne and despite popular opinion, neither accurately described me at the moment. Nope, beer was most the better choice for the evening.

Unfortunately this particular institution didn't serve good beer (not the kind that I wanted) that is if they served beer at all. I'd have to go down the road to one of the less reputable saloons. Perhaps a pretty wench could warm my lap as well, take away some of the bit that has an unmoving grip on me. Have to go somewhere new then, too much bad reputation going around now. Not that it's my fault, I only gave the girl a mild concussion. Of course more recently I've become notorious for dumping the girls on the floor and calling them...no, no, no, best not think of _her,_ not now, not tonight.

Standing I glanced at the door which _she_ had just stepped through. And did she look ravishing tonight! The dark purple dress accented her eyes and showed off her body to its best advantage, not that it could be shown at a bad advantage. It gave the gentlemen around her a small tease of the breasts that pushed alluringly against the silky fabric and an appealing look at her desirable legs. Her raven black hair shone in the light and it shook appealingly as she laughed.

No, I had not spent the last twenty-four hours obsessing over her body. Oh no, she had just found some way to posses my every thought, daydream, and even nightmare. I was beyond obsessed.

"Miss Tomoyo, would you care to dance?" Some buffoon asked her.

She smiled, nodded, and walked out onto the dance floor. That was his first mistake, one of a long list. I distinctly noticed that he didn't lead her out onto the floor, she moved herself. From there it went downhill. Oh the buffoon knew a few steps, but Tomoyo's were obviously far more advanced. He couldn't lead and to an experienced dancer as myself, he looked a fool. Unfortunately for Tomoyo, he could barely keep his feet off of hers let alone concentrate on the most important part of the moves. His clumsiness repulsed me as much as I felt drawn to Tomoyo.

As the music wound to a close, I marched out onto the floor, not the slightest bit intoxicated on alcohol, although behaving like it. It took a single glare to scare off her partner and claim her for myself. No one had a glare quite like Tomoyo who could freeze and boil water at the same time with it. Currently she had fixed that death look on me.

It didn't take me long to take control of the situation, not that it displeased me to do so. I placed one hand ever so delicately upon her waist, that slim, beautiful, desirable waist. No, do not think of the dreams from last night, do not. And then I captured her hand with mine and the dance was off.

Nothing else registered on my mind, only the steps and my dear sweet Tomoyo whose eyebrow just twitched, slightly mind, but still a sure sign that she was troubled. "You seem a bit confused my sweet Tomoyo, why?" I leaned forward to look more closely at her exquisite face. No model could ever come that close to perfection.

"Don't call me that!" To anyone else the words would sound like a hiss, but I caught the slight intake of breath.

I looked at her eyes, trying to divulge to truth, which to the trained eye, appeared so clearly there. But this time, truth did not exist, I saw half filled eyes, eyes that battled with themselves and the victor was not yet obvious.

"What do you want?" She asked harshly, betraying more things then I think she realized. The harshness sounded just a bit hoarse and deeper. But not only that, her body puffed out and her breasts brushed lightly against my chest.

I continued to try and read the outcome of the battle for her heart, desperately hoping that I would win. Her mind had won all the major battles, but every other victory belonged to me.

"Why are you here?" Her voice softened immensely allowing me to hear the desire creep through. It sent shivers down my spine and suddenly it became necessary to concentrate more closely on the dance steps or lose myself entirely to the demands of my body. That happened to include the nearest wall and wrecking havoc upon her senses, mind, soul, and body.

"I came to see you, flower blossom of my heart." I admitted honestly. The dance brought us closer to together, intimately rubbing together. A groan came rushing to my mouth as I pulled her out of the dip and she wrapped her leg around mine. Why did she choose this night to go out? Why didn't I realize a club of sophistication would have exactly what I could not attain? Her lips came within centimeters of mine via the next set of steps and only with the greatest restrain did I manage not to lead her out the door and down the street to the nearest motel.

Her arms stiffened in my embrace and I almost whispered thank you, had that not been rude. I suppose she wanted some distance between herself and me, some level of professional appearances. And for that I was grateful, having her so close, smelling so good, looking so ravishing could not have bode well for our future relationship, especially if I came on to fast. Unfortunately my body was saying to fast was not fast enough.

My hands moved down to her hips on there own and pulled her against me. She should have slapped me, kicked me, down something, that wasn't part of any dance I knew. But I had to feel her, to know her just a little bit more or go insane. Hand in hand, body to body, and the look in her eyes changed. The battle had ended and I didn't need to look to see the result. She held nothing back, laying her body against me in an almost wanton way. The groan did not escape my mouth, exactly, but it didn't leave either. I had to clench my teeth together.

The music came to a close and I bent Tomoyo back in one final dip. Without hesitation, without thought, without anything our lips met. They touched in a way that stole my breath and at the same time made me ready to run a cross country marathon.

"Touché."

**"Rather out of line. I dare you to do us a soft and luscious lyric, capable of reducing a fat woman to sniffles." --Carl Sandburg on _Cornhuskers_**

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